


The Nice Ones Probe

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2018) [19]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Strong Language, go me, jacob's not involved and i still made pratt suffer, larry's here in spirit trust me you'll feel him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-06 01:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Pratt is at the end of his damn rope, and Larry Parker is to blame.





	The Nice Ones Probe

“I hate my fucking life.”  
  
Hudson leaned back in her chair, eyebrows high on her head. “What happened, Staci? Larry give you a hard time?”  
  
Pratt looked like he’d looked into the void and seen all the horrors of Hell staring back at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“You still have to give a report.”  
  
“Fuck you, I quit. I _quit._ ”  
  
“Pratt,” Whitehorse rumbled as he stepped out of his office, “No one in this office is quitting before I retire. I will shred your formal two weeks request and leave the remains on your desk. Now, if I recall correctly, you were responding to a noise complaint: What the hell did Parker do that’s making you want to quit your damn job?”  
  
Pratt rubbed a hand over his mouth, thinking. “I- Sir, I don’t want to repeat it,” He said, tone morphing into a plea. “I seriously can’t.”  
  
Now Hudson looked bewildered. “What the hell could Loony Larry have done that was so bad? The guy’s _nuts_ but at least he doesn’t burn shit down like Sharky.” They (and the rest of the county) had been quietly ignoring the U.S Marshals’ wanted posters for Sharky Boshaw for weeks; he may have been a pain-in-the-ass firebug, but he was _their_ pain-in-the-ass firebug.  
  
“You don’t…” Pratt turned and walked over to his desk, shaking his head. He turned back to Whitehorse after a moment. “If I say it, can that be the end of it? Will I not have to write it down? Because I think I only have one shot in me, Sheriff.”  
  
“If it stops your bitching, Pratt, then fine,” Whitehorse sighed. “Just get it over with already.”  
  
Pratt bit his lip, took a big breath through his nose, and then let it out through his mouth. “I showed up at Larry’s.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
“He had this… Shit, Earl, I don’t know what it was, it looked like something out of a science fiction movie.”  
  
Whitehorse nodded wearily. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen it before. Something, something, trans-dimensional whatever, something, something. It’s pointless to try to understand his rambling, he’s already on Mars as far as we’re concerned.”  
  
“No wonder NASA’s threatening to get a restraining order,” Hudson muttered.  
  
“Whatever it was, that was the thing making the noise. It was smoking, too, but I didn’t see any fire. So I knock on the door, I call Larry’s name, but he doesn’t answer, and so I went inside. Looked around for a bit and I found him, uh…” Pratt covered his eyes, and Hudson’s lips curled up slightly with anticipation.  
  
“What was he doing, Staci?” She asked, tone ever-so-slightly taunting.  
  
“I swear to fuck, Hudson, I’m gonna…” Pratt mumbled it so quietly it was just barely audible.  
  
“Just spit it out, Pratt.”  
  
“He had a- a- When I asked, he gave me this shtick about how aliens were coming,” Pratt sped up as he spoke, growing a little more hysterical as he did, “And I mean yeah, I know, that’s normal for him, but then he started talking about how they were gonna be bad aliens, and that they weren’t the _nice ones_ that would just pull you into their ship and probe you and then send you on your way, and he knew that because he’d been probed before and it really wasn’t so bad, which was why he had a- a- _thing_ up his _thing._ ”  
  
Silence.  
  
“What?” Whitehorse asked, with the tone of someone who got the gist, but wanted confirmation before truly succumbing to misery.  
  
“He-” Pratt winced. “He had a _thing_ up his… _Thing._ ” He made a vague motion towards his lower body.  
  
Silence.  
  
Hudson burst out laughing, a manic, uncontrollable sort of laughter that nearly made her slide out of her seat.  
  
“ _Shut the fuck up, Hudson!_ ” Pratt exploded.  
  
“You’re so traumatized!” Hudson howled. “Oh my God!”  
  
“Take it down a notch, both of you,” Whitehorse said flatly, rubbing his forehead. “The bottom line is that you walked in on Larry Parker doing something that ought to be done behind a locked door, yeah?”  
  
“Yes,” Pratt growled through clenched teeth.  
  
“Can’t say I envy you the sight, Pratt.”  
  
“He didn’t even look surprised or freaked out,” Pratt said, voice growing weak. “Like it was totally normal to be naked and talk about Aliens doing that sort of thing, and having the _thing_ in him and I just…” He covered his face. “I don’t even know if he was getting anything out of it or if it was just some weird experiment.”  
  
“I would think it would be obvious if he was getting something out of it,” Hudson giggled.  
  
“ _Oh_ my God, I’m gonna-”  
  
“Uh… Guys?” All three officers looked to the door, where Junior Deputy Rook stood, holding a bunch of Burger King take-out bags. She looked back and forth, confused. “I… I got everyone’s stuff?” She said, obviously bemused.  
  
“Marry me, Probie,” Pratt groaned, not realizing the implications of his choice of words until Hudson was on her knees next to her chair, busting a gut. “ _Fuck off, Joey!_ ”  
  
“I’m running a goddamn daycare,” Whitehorse grumbled as Rook hesitantly handed him his bag.  
  
“I feel like I’ve missed so much,” Rook muttered.  
  
“ _You have!_ ” Hudson cackled, slapping the seat of her chair with her hand.  
  
“Alright, enough,” Whitehorse said. “Hudson, get up. Pratt, sit down and eat your food before you have a goddamn aneurysm. Rook, try to forget everything you’ve just seen, I wouldn’t want you to think your coworkers are a bunch of certified lunatics.”  
  
“Okay,” Rook muttered, handing him his bag and going to her desk without another word, content to forget this had ever happened.  
  
“Pratt, is Larry handled? Did he shut that goddamn trans-dimensional-whatever so we aren’t going to get another noise-complaint today?”  
  
“Yeah,” Pratt muttered glumly as he fished through his bag, “It’s down for now, but he’ll start it up again eventually. He always does.”  
  
“Hudson,” Whitehorse said, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. “I think _you’ll_ be handling that call when we get it.”  
  
“I am a-okay with that,” Hudson said good-naturedly as she unwrapped her burger. “I can handle Loony Larry.”  
  
Pratt grumbled something, and Whitehorse shook his head, putting his hand up.  
  
“I am going into my office. Kill each other if you want, because for the next twenty minutes I don’t plan on coming out to stop you.”  
  
“Duly noted, sir,” Rook responded, eyes jumping between Pratt and Hudson, who were eyeing each other like they were going start up again.  
  
Whitehorse walked into the office and nearly slammed the door shut behind him. “Swear to _God_ I am running a damn daycare.”  
  
-End


End file.
